Day of the Dragon

by Katie MacAlister

“This isn’t your fault,” he said, setting me down on the stairs, his eyes as pale as the moon as he looked down at me.

  The heat from his body drew me. I placed my hands on his chest, sick with the knowledge that his beautiful house had been attacked all because I had escaped from Hunter. “It is. If I hadn’t run from him—”

  “You would now be in his power, and he would be using you,” he said with innate arrogance that seemed to touch everything he said. “Stop looking guilty. You have not precipitated this attack.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I tried, I really tried, but he was filled with fury, a hot, burning anger that I suspected was directed toward his brother. I wanted desperately to temper that anger but didn’t know how, so I simply stroked my fingers along his jaw, my inner parts sitting up and taking notice at the soft whiskers that tickled my fingertips. “Perhaps not entirely, but I know I’m partly responsible. I sprayed him with pepper spray, Archer. Bree beaned him with a heavy solid glass ashtray that she carries with her for some reason that I don’t understand, since she’s not a smoker, but that’s neither here nor there because she did have it and bashed it down on Hunter’s head, and that’s why he’s attacking you. Because he’s annoyed at me.”

  “Much as I believe that all who see you will desire you, the truth is less simple.” Archer’s hands were reassuring on my bare upper arms. “Go back to bed, flower. There will be no more such attacks tonight.”

  “How can you possibly say that?” I shook my head, letting my fingers drop to his collarbone, just the touch of his sleek, satiny skin making the embers inside me grow into a fire that threatened to consume me.

  “Because I know my foe. We have been antagonists for many centuries,” Archer said with a grim smile before catching my hands and kissing the flames that danced on the ends of my fingers. “Return to bed. I want you rested before you tackle deciphering the manuscript.”

  “About that manuscript,” I started to say, but he dropped my hands.

  “We will talk about it later. Go to bed.”

  I thought of arguing more with him, thought of telling him how sexy he looked with his rumpled hair, bare chest, and little pillow crease lines on one cheek, but knew he would feel obligated to handle whatever increased security he’d put into place, and I couldn’t be of any help with that.

  Accordingly, I walked up the stairs slowly, trying to resolve the feelings that swirled around inside me. Naamah had to be wrong. Oh, sure, Archer wanted me to translate the leaf, but he wouldn’t have made such a big deal about me being his mate if that was all he wanted from me.

  No, Naamah was wrong, and my gut instincts were right. By the time I reached the top, I had another of those epiphanies similar to the moment when I realized that dragons were real.

  This time I faced the fact that I couldn’t just wash Archer out of my hair. We may have only just met, but I felt like I’d known him forever. That sense of familiarity, of the rightness of him, helped push down the doubts Naamah had raised. Archer may irritate me with his attempts to dominate me, but deep down, I knew I was safe with him. He was the only person other than Gran who made me feel that way, and that had to be more proof that Naamah was just trying to stir up mischief. Archer was far too gorgeous for my comfort, and I knew, knew without a single shred of doubt that I’d have to cope with every woman who saw him immediately wanting him, but even that didn’t stop the feeling that Archer was now vital to my life.

  I stopped at the door to my room, thinking long and hard, knowing I was on the verge of something big. One step into my room, and my life would go down one path. A step in the other direction, to the door opposite, and I’d be taking a gamble that I couldn’t be sure wouldn’t leave me devastated and emotionally destroyed.

  “I might have issues, but I am not a coward,” I said aloud. I turned and entered Archer’s bedroom.

  His bed sat on a big platform covered in light gray linen, the bed coverings also in various shades of gray. The room was sparsely furnished, with a tall white armoire, a couple of gray striped chairs next to a gas fireplace, and a small desk and chair. The wall facing the ocean was solid glass, the balcony beyond it tempting me, but with the mental images of the damage downstairs uppermost in my mind, I resisted the urge to sit outside.

  I looked back at the bed, noting that Archer preferred to sleep on the left side, nearest the door.

  “That’s good,” I said to no one, moving around to the far side of the bed. “I’m a right sider. We won’t have to arm wrestle over who gets what side.”

  My inner self gave another girlish squeal over the idea of Archer’s arms, of his long fingers (I’ve always found men’s hands sexy), his biceps, as well as the feel of that warm, silky skin beneath my fingers.

  And mouth.

  And breasts.

  After a moment of indecision spent staring at the bed, I examined the bank of closets that filled one side of the room. One end held suits, the sort you see in pictures of Fortune 500 board meetings. I leaned into them, breathing deeply, catching a faint scent that made my entire body feel warm. Another section held sportier clothing, while farther down I found a few T-shirts. I pulled out a blue one that matched his eyes when they were full of desire and buried my face in it, my toes curling into the carpet as the lemony, woodsy scent of Archer sank into my blood. I removed my dress before slipping the blue tee over my head, after which I visited his bathroom—also done in shades of white and gray—dimmed the lights in the bedroom, and climbed into his bed.

  I lay on my back, looking at the shadows playing along the ceiling, planning what I was going to say to Archer about the manuscript, wondering about the decision I’d made. Had it really been only a little more than twenty-four hours since I’d first laid eyes on Archer? It seemed like a lifetime had passed, one filled with ups and downs and a whole lot of steamy dragon lovin’.

  My inner skeptic was a bit surprised that I had made the decision without thinking about it for a whole lot longer, certainly not before getting to know more about Archer, but I knew myself well enough. I always did fall for men hard and fast, and it seemed this time was no different.

  Archer was, however.

  Archer…If he had been hurt…My throat ached with unshed tears at the thought.

  I must have fallen asleep despite intending to stay awake so I could seduce Archer, because I became aware that I was dreaming again, this time with me lying on my stomach in a field filled with butterflies that fluttered above me, touching me with the lightest brushes of their wings.

  Sunlight heated my flesh, while underneath, the grass tickled my bare skin, making me feel restless and oddly needy. Why wasn’t Archer here enjoying this with me? I wondered, wanting to turn over so that the sun could warm my underside, but the weight of the sunlight held me down, a solid weight that stroked me with fingers made of fire.

  The fingers drew intricate patterns up my legs, swirling and teasing, moving higher to my knees, then higher still to my thighs. Pressure inside me caused all of my deep, intimate parts to weep tears of desire, a familiar tension starting in my belly and spreading out with little ripples of pleasure. The fingers urged my legs apart, the lines of fire that followed them burning a path straight to the place I wanted them most. When one of the fingers dipped inside me, curling downward, I almost screamed with the pleasure of it all.

  Warmth swept up my back in soft, long strokes, following gentle nibbles.

  A second finger joined the first, and I dug my hands into the grass beneath me, my breath caught in my throat, my lungs unable to pull in more air.

  “One more?” a deep voice seemed to wrap around me, drifting in and out of the dream. I moaned in response, my hips bucking when a third finger joined the two that filled me, a thumb flicking over flesh so needy that it made me see stars despite the heat of the day.

  “It pleases me that you are so responsive,” the voice said as my body coiled like a spring about to be released, pulling me out of the dream. Archer’s body was hard and h
ot over my back. He surged into me, the invasion making me scream with mingled shock and ecstasy. “If you knew what you did to me, flower…The scent of you wraps me up so tight that I will never be free of it. Tell me you don’t want me to stop. Tell me you’re ready. I will try another time to pleasure you longer, but I must claim you…must do this now…”

  “I was ready when the dream started,” I said, panting and grabbing the sheets with both hands when he pumped into me with strokes that were not at all gentle. “Do it now, Archer. Fill me. Fill me with your fire, fill me with…Yes! Fill me with that swivel move again!”

  He slid an arm under my belly, jerking a pillow under it, which allowed him a different angle of penetration that had me moaning nonstop until I trembled on the edge of an orgasm.

  “Filling you is my…Christus, mate, don’t tighten up any more, I won’t be able to last…it is my intention.”

  I couldn’t help myself, all my intimate muscles tightened around him as he thrust hard into me, the angle allowing him to touch sensitive spots I didn’t even know I had, sending me spiraling into a climax that literally made me shake with the power of it.

  Fire filled me as he joined me, sweeping up my body, lighting more than just my skin on fire—my soul burned in an inferno of passion and desire…and something that I didn’t want to look to closely at.

  It took a long, long time for me to come down off that orgasm, and when I did, I found myself draped over Archer’s body, his delicious chest heaving, damp with perspiration, and as hot as the fire that still simmered inside of me.

  “The bed is on fire,” I said, trying to breathe without gasping.

  His eyes were closed. He lifted a hand, immediately dropping it back just as if he didn’t have the strength to hold it up. “It will die down. All the furnishings in the house have been fireproofed.”

  “Handy, that,” I said, pushing myself off his chest to look down at him. “That was…Holy moly, Archer, where did you learn to do that thing with the pillow? That was the most amazing sex I’ve ever had, and I thought nothing could top the forest interlude.”

  The corners of his lips curled. “Are you asking me to recount my sexual experiences?”

  “Huh?” I reached across him and patted out the fire that burned along his hip.

  He opened his eyes. They were midnight blue, the color slowly leaching out of the irises even as I watched. “You asked where I learned about using a pillow.”

  “Oh. Sorry, that was more a rhetorical question than anything.” I thought for a moment. “Have you…uh…used that particular technique a lot?”

  One of his glossy black eyebrows rose. “Are you jealous at the thought of my previous lovers?”

  “No. Of course not.” I made a dismissive gesture. “What’s there to be jealous of? What’s in the past is in the past. I wouldn’t expect you to be jealous of me having had a lover before. Lovers, plural. Many lovers.”

  His eyebrow rose a little higher.

  “I just made myself sound overly promiscuous, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, but I understand. You are jealous. That is right and natural. I do not like to think of the man to whom you gave yourself, but I am able to accept the knowledge that you allowed another man to touch your body, to stroke your breasts and hips and thighs, to kiss your neck in the spot that makes you tremble, to claim your mouth for his own, tasting of your sweetness, of the hot, burning sweetness…” His voice trailed off to a rocky finish.

  “You’re on fire,” I said, looking pointedly at his hands—which were now fisted and burned merrily where they lay alongside his hips.

  He cleared his throat, and the flames extinguished. “I do not wish to make you more jealous than you are, so we will not discuss where I learned to use the pillow.”

  “Uh-huh. How did you know I just had the one boyfriend? The only one who knows that is my friend Laura. Oh, and Bree. Dammit, did she tell you?”

  “I have had no conversation with the sprite, no.”

  “Oh.” A suspicion came to my mind. “You didn’t do a background check on me, did you? Oh! You did! I can see it in the guilty expression that’s plastered all over your handsome face!”

  His eyes opened wide for a few seconds; then I was on my back, his hands stroking up my belly to my breasts. “We will do this again, properly this time, without so much haste. You will not entice me as you did when I found you in my bed.”

  I froze where I was happily trailing my fingers around his biceps, feeling as if his words had hit me in the gut. “Did you not…I thought…oh God, you didn’t want…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I was so embarrassed, I wanted to pull the blanket over my head and never face Archer again. I rolled out from under him and reached for the T-shirt and my underwear, which he must have stripped off me while I was dreaming. “I’m so sorry. I would have never— Oh God. How can I be so stupid?”

  “What is this?” Archer stood before me, his body so gloriously male it took my breath away. “Why do you cry? What did I say?”

  “I’m mortified,” I murmured, angrily dashing tears from my eyes. “I thought you wanted…I thought you were inviting me to…to…”

  He frowned in confusion at me for a moment, then plucked the T-shirt off my body, picked me up, and put me back in his bed. “I look forward to the day when you cease underestimating your worth.” He crawled over me to slide into bed next to me, before wrapping an arm around me and hauling me up against his body. “You are my mate, little flower. We are bound together. My home is yours. My bed is yours. Your body is mine.”

  I laughed a hiccupping laugh through the tears that still spilled over my lashes, my heart lightening at the knowledge that I hadn’t just made an epic ass of myself. “Nice switch there, Mr. Domineering.”

  He grinned, the sight of it making my toes curl with happiness even though he’d done a little investigating of my background. I guess, given the situation, that wasn’t such a grievous crime. At least, I was willing to forgive it, since I’d tried to do the very same thing to him.

  “It is the way of dragons. You have much to learn, but I will teach you. If I ask you what made you come to my bed, would you misinterpret it?”

  “That depends,” I said, placing my hand on his chest. Immediately, my fingernails lit with his fire. I tipped my head back so that I could admire his jaw and chin. I had the worst urge to bite that chin with its faint cleft. “Are you asking out of curiosity, or because I’m the latest in a long line of women that you’ve unexpectedly found in your bed?”

  “The former.”

  I was silent for a few minutes while I tried to put into words my decision. “It was the explosion. When I thought you might be hurt, I realized that I may have only known you for a day, but you were important. To me. And if you were that important, then what was the use in pretending you weren’t?”

  He made a satisfied noise, rolling onto his side so that I was pressed against his chest, that glorious chest, with one of his legs over mine. “It pleases me that you understand what it is to be mated. Later today, you will be bound to the tribe so that all will know you are mine.”

  “You know, a little bit of possessiveness is fine,” I told him, pinching his side. “But too much is annoying as hell.”

  “Then it is good that I give you the exact right amount,” he said, his breath ruffling my hair. His body relaxed against me, surrounding me with the sensation of warmth and security and a sense of belonging that until that moment, I didn’t realize I craved so much.

  “Han.”

  “Hmm? Are you hungry?” he asked sleepily.

  “Not ham, Han. It’s kind of a cool name. Maybe you’re a Han?”

  He said nothing, just pulled me tighter. “I do not expect you to name me because I was never given one of my own, flower. I have long been resigned to my past.”

  “I know, but it hurts me thinking about it. How could your parents abandon you like that? How could any parent abandon babies?”

  “My mother died so
on after we were born, or so I was told.”

  “And your father?”

  He was silent a moment. “It is said that he did not survive her death.”

  “I’m so sorry. How horrible that must have been for everyone.” I tipped my head back and kissed his Adam’s apple, wanting to leech the pain from him, but knowing it went too deep for me to ever fully remove. “But you were babies—surely there must have been others who could have taken you in?”

  “I grew up in the keep of a mortal, just another unwanted child left to fight the hounds for scraps of food. Later, they put me to work. I doubt I would have survived had I been mortal.”

  Tears burned my eyes as I had a picture of Archer as a small child running wild, unloved, with no one who cared whether he lived or died. I shifted so that I could slide my arms around him. “I can’t make your horrible childhood any better, but I want you to know that you will never be alone again. I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

  He rolled onto his side, a puzzled frown pulling his brows together. He wiped the wetness on my cheek. “You weep for me?”

  “Of course I do,” I said, choking back a sob as I clutched his head to my breasts. “You poor, hurting man. When I think that no one cared…that no one even bothered to give you a name of your own…oh, Archer, I could just beat the ever-living shit out of all those medieval people!”

  He pulled himself out of my grip, kissing each breast, then resettled himself with me tucked into his side, cocooning me in warmth. “This fierceness is pleasing. No one has ever wanted to beat the ever-living shit out of an entire keep of people on my behalf.”

  “I would do it in a heartbeat,” I told his chest, allowing myself to relax and melt into him. “Just get me a time machine and watch me.”

  He chuckled, a sound that made me feel very at peace and one with the world.

  Perhaps, I told myself, life was finally coming together for me.

  Chapter Ten

  “ARCHER, WE HAVE TO TALK.”

  He looked up from his laptop, noting Thaisa had what he was coming to think of as her determined expression on her adorable face. Perhaps it was the way her straight brows pulled together or the lift of her chin as if she expected him to argue with her.